There wasn’t any possibility of confusing what was on the viewscreen right now with what the crew of the Canopus knew as Deep Space Nine. But it was what the locals called the large, gangly space station, lonely and isolated in the void. The architecture was at least still distinctly Cardassian, with curves terminated in brutalist points and blunt edges, designed to feel vaguely menacing and imposing with just its presence in the universe.
The single biggest distinction though was the large charge sail suspended above the station as it continually fell in towards Bajor’s parent star, pushed out by solar winds, which were then used to charge huge reserves used by the fleet of jumpships clustered around the station.
Even here, in a reality totally different, did the station find itself a hub of commerce, repurposed by a free Bajor and its Federation allies after the ousting of the Cardassians nearly a generation ago. The multiverse really did recycle historical trends, as the same stories largely played themselves out while set against different backdrops.
They’d been challenged as soon as they had appeared, not near Bajor’s Denorios Belt, but well above the system’s primary, at a location they’d been directed to that was apparently optimal for jumpships to use. And while weapons had been trained, likely still were, tensions had eased when Commodore Theodoras, both of them in fact, had responded.
It had caused no end of confusion, which was better than hostility at least. And while Tikva had wanted to stay, to assist her counterpart in soothing ruffled feathers and enjoy the mayhem to no end herself, they had their own pressures driving a hasty departure.
“Hail the Canopean Dream,” she finally ordered, having emerged from her ready room with the intent of being on her way.
As the CIC on the Canopean Dream snapped into existence on the viewscreen, Tikva took in her counterpart’s smile. Likely caused by something the Romulan woman standing beside her had said. A smile she probably wore herself whenever Adelinde walked into a room. “Finally on your way?” the other Tikva asked.
“We should be,” she replied, waving at the armband everyone on the bridge was now wearing. Another precaution should the Loom make a reappearance. “Don’t want to overstay our welcome until the Loom have calmed down. Or cause too much more of a panic amongst your sector command staff.”
“They can do with a bit more panic,” the other Tikva responded. “I don’t want to come off as rude-”
“But don’t come back,” she finished the statement. “I’ll add multiversal expeditions to my list of things not to repeat.”
“If we ever meet again, let’s make it your reality, yeah?”
“No promises.” It was light-hearted, but the earlier bit about not coming back was still the centre of conversation. “Just…take care of yourselves. The Breen likely aren’t going to forget what we did to them. And they’ll want to take some sort of action.”
“I don’t doubt that. And neither does Command. I’ve been stuck in meetings all day so far discussing Breen counters,” other Tikva answered. “But we’ll answer them as we always have.”
“And maybe with a fleet of new ships too,” Shae added, her smile bright and promising a bold new future for this Federation to come. “I’m thinking the Canopus-class to start with?”
“See, now, you’ve given me a reason to potentially come back one day.” She shook her head with a slight laugh. “I’m sure, if you ever need me, the universe will conspire to make it happen. But with that, good luck, Commodore Theodoras, and smooth sailing.”
“And to you, Commodore Theodoras,” the other said. “Safe travels.”
The comm channel closed, Deep Space Nine, this reality’s version of it at least, reappearing on the viewscreen. A different mood settled across the bridge almost immediately. The same sense of anticipation when departing, off on some grand adventure, or in this case, returning from one.
“Commander Karas,” Tikva said, turning to her XO as she strode towards the centre seat. “I think we should be on our way, don’t you think?”
“Sounds reasonable,” Regem agreed. “Mr Miller.”
“Yes, sir,” the helmsman answered lazily, fully aware of what was to come next.
“Set a course for Starbase 80 and get us underway, warp nine.”
“Purgatory and step on it,” Caleb repeated the order, through a twisted filter that was going to land the young man as a permanent lieutenant at this rate.
Unburdened by another ship and self-imposed responsibilities, Canopus was, with her sister ship, racing across a largely unaware Federation, back towards the site where the anomaly would open when SB80 received their transdimensional request for a way home.
If it wasn’t for the threat of potential non-existence that the Loom presented, Tikva had no doubt she’d want to stick around for a bit longer. Poke around, explore, and learn the differences in history. Not just of those she knew, or herself, but on the grand scale as well. Why were the Klingons considered rare and mysterious here? Romulans serving in Starfleet with no one thinking much of it. Why were the Breen a preeminent threat?
But safety beckoned. Familiarity and home, too.
But still, the unknown was there, calling.
“I’ve made up my mind,” she announced loudly as she stepped into her quarters that evening.
Adelinde, comfortably lounging on the couch, changed out of her uniform, likely as soon as she’d come off duty, looked up from her book, an eyebrow raised, a smile gracing her face. “On dinner?” It was, after all, what had been posed at lunch earlier in the day.
“What? No!” Tikva answered, waving the dinner question away as she stripped off her uniform tunic and tossed it over the back of a seat as she stalked towards Adelinde. “Still can’t decide what I want.” She stopped directly in front of Adelinde, hands on her hips as she straightened her back. “I’ve made up my mind about what we’re doing next.”
Adelinde closed her book, set it down on the side table, and turned her full attention to Tikva. “When you say we, do you mean the ship, the squadron, or us?”
“Yes,” she answered, enjoying the cant of Adelinde’s head in response. Lin wasn’t surprised by the answer, just unhappy with something so vague. “We’re going to the Shackleton Expanse after this. Follow up on the whole Fourth Fleet mission not too long ago with a decent, long-term effort.”
“Truly exploring the unknown,” Lin responded, agreeing with the sentiment. “So that answers ship and squadron,” she continued. “That just leaves us still.”
“Hmmhmm.” Tikva straddled Lin’s lap, facing her, leaning in to kiss Lin until a desperate need for breath hit her. “I want us to be more…official,” she whispered.
“Official?” Lin asked, a smirk forming as she spoke, hands finding purchase on Tikva’s back. “How official?”
It took a mere flicker of an eternally stretched-out instant for Tikva to summon up the internal courage to ask the question she’d been sitting on. A breath drawn in, a second to lean back into Lin’s strong arms keeping her from leaning back, to enjoy the moment.
“Marry me?”
